Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Raven remembered everything.

She remembered everything about her dream as if it happened only yesterday. Most people didn’t remember their dreams, and Raven knew it wasn’t normal to have such vivid and dark dreams. At least, they weren’t normal, according to her father. He’d given her medication to keep the dangerous dreams away.

In her dream, Raven was barely seventeen, several years older than she had been when she had the dream. That had never been the problem with her dream. The problem was what she did when she was barely seventeen.

She killed a boy with a Fender guitar.

One detail Raven didn’t remember was whether the guitar was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster. But it had a heart of chrome and a voice of a horny angel. Sounding so pure as it hit the boy until his heart stopped and his body stilled.

She didn’t remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster, but she remembered that it wasn’t at all easy. Killing people was never easy. It required the perfect combination of the right power chords to lure the boy in. It required figuring out the precise angle from which to strike, the angle that would cause the most damage before he’d yell.

In her dream, Raven had done it. She’d swung the guitar into the boy, and he crumpled to the floor. Raven kept swinging, and the guitar screamed that it wanted more. But she couldn’t.

The guitar had bled for a week afterwards. The blood it oozed was dark and rich, the same colour as wild berries. For some reason, Raven thought of Chuck Berry when she’d seen him on TV, with his crimson guitar that looked a little like hers did now the blood coated it.

Even though the guitar bled for a week afterwards, Raven plugged it into the amp, letting the blood drip to the floor and cover her clothes as she lifted it and struck down on the strings. It rang out beautifully, playing better than ever before. She had never even heard the notes it played before, but she loved every one of them.

But the guitar wanted more, and she wanted to play so brilliantly again. So she’d smashed it against the wall, smashed it against the floor. But it was no good. The walls and floors weren’t alive. They didn’t bleed like the boy had. They weren’t warm or full of life.

So Raven searched for something with heat rushing through it. She found a varsity cheerleader, screaming as she smashed her with the guitar. Blood splattered and stained the cheerleader’s uniform, but it still wasn’t enough.

Why wasn’t it enough?

Out of anger, she smashed the hood of a car, leaving a dent where it struck. She smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson. The Harley howled with pain. It didn’t bleed, but the Harley groaned and roared as the guitar howled in heat. It lusted for more. Something more precious, something more important, and something alive. But there wasn’t anything else nearby that would satiate it.

So Raven ran back home and up the stairs of Falco Tower until she reached her parents’ bedroom. She peeked inside at Mommy and Daddy while they were sleeping in the moonlight that streamed through their window. The usually smokey sky was clear, and the moon was full. Raven pushed the door open further, holding the guitar behind her back in case they were awake. They weren’t. She crept through the shadows until she was at the foot of their bed. She raised the guitar high above her head, ready to swing, ready to bring it crashing down on her father’s sleeping form. He was so annoying, so controlling, why not him?

Then he woke up screaming: “Stop!”

Raven froze, the guitar still hovering over him. He scrambled to sit up as Raven stood in her parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night.
“Wait a minute! Stop it, girl! What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled. “That’’s no way to treat a musical instrument?”

Raven remembered exactly what she had said to her father before she awoke from her dream. Before she told her mother at breakfast the following morning, her father had walked in without them noticing and had overheard. Suddenly, he was so concerned, and then she’d had to take dream suppressants to stop her from having any dreams like that again. Raven had lifted her guitar above her head and spoke.

“God dammit, Daddy! You know I love you, but you’ve got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll!”

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Strat knew about the world, it was that the world was unfair.

But The Lost were there to try to make it a bit better.

Since Falco wanted to tear down the buildings they used for shelter and fill in the old subway tunnels, Strat had suggested they do something about it. They weren’t the only people who sheltered in those buildings. Plenty of homeless people used them, people that Falco didn’t care about. So they looked the other way as The Lost marched through the streets to Falco Tower.

Falco Tower itself was a monolith. It was the only clean and shiny building in the entire city. Everywhere else, trash rotted in gutters and smoke choked the sky. The word ‘Falco’ stretched across the front of the tower in big illuminated letters as the sun started to set. Sometimes, Strat was sure he’d seen a girl peer out of a window beneath those letters. He always thought she looked sad, and while he’d never admit it to the others, he searched for her now, wondering if she was inside.

“Are we ready to do this?” Jagwire asked. Strat looked over at his friend on his motorcycle, pushed all thoughts of the girl out of his mind, and grinned. Strapped to the back of the bike were signs that had been made. It was supposed to be a peaceful protest. Knowing Falco’s militia and some of The Lost’s temper, it would get rowdy.
“Ready?” Strat laughed as he revved his own motorcycle. “I always am.”

They parked their bikes a little out of the way, not wanting to risk them getting damaged. The rest of The Lost were approaching from the other side of Falco Tower for maximum chaos. If Falco was overwhelmed, the militia wouldn’t take longer to fight back.

Someone handed out signs that read ‘WASTED YOUTH’ on one side and ‘DON’T BE A DIC-TATOR’ on the other. While Strat couldn’t help but chuckle, and he decided to thank whoever had come up with it, he decided to forgo a sign and instead ran out into the square. The Lost followed.

Inside him, Strat felt the energy and anger desperate to escape. How dare Falco tear down people’s homes and then try to rid them of the only shelter they had? How dare he try to destroy The Lost when they couldn’t help being kicked out for being Freezers. They hadn’t been safe then, and they weren’t safe now. Falco wanted to fill in The Deep End. All the new houses they promised would never be available to people like them. So now it was time for him to see what it was like to have his life disrupted yet again. Clearly, their last attempts hadn’t been good enough.

Zahara and the other half of the Lost joined them in the square in front of Falco Tower. As they chanted and held up the signs, Strat tapped his foot. He could feel the tension in the air as the militia formed a barricade around the tower, bracing with their riot shields with their batons ready to strike.

Bang!

Light blinded him, and Strat was dizzy for a moment. He tried to glance around. Who’d thrown that?

“Screw you, Falco! Go to Hell!”

Militia swarmed them. Strat stood in the midst as smoke burned his lungs. People used the signs to hit the guards, or threw them aside in favour of fist-fighting. They teamed up against them, but they were outnumbered.

Pain spread across his back again and again, and he turned to push the guard away from him. They lunged back, grabbing his shirt, but Strat slipped out of it. He could always retrieve it later. He ran from the militia as quick as he could, pushing another attacking Scherzzo to the floor. She smiled her thanks as she kicked the guard on the floor.

A flash of pale pink passed him.

Turning, he saw a girl running through the chaos in a flimsy pale pink dress. Hoffman grabbed her, but before Strat could yell at him to stop and let her go, she pushed him away. He caught a glimpse of her wide ears and confusion as she turned right into Tink, holding a metal pole. She dashed away, and Strat tried to follow.

“Is this what you want?” Tink screamed. “You’ll never defeat us!”

One of the militia grabbed her by the wrist and shouted at her. Something about getting back inside. Strat walked up to the guard and punched as hard as he could. His knuckles stung, but he punched again. When he turned to ask if she was okay, he spotted her up on the wall of a nearby building or what was left of it.

Then he realised something and froze, staring at the beautiful girl as she watched the protest-turn-brawl. She was the girl from the window, out of place in her prim, clean clothes. The girl was only a few meters away and the smoke had dissipated. Strat recognised her from some of the magazines Valkyrie had brought back a while ago ‘just for something to look through’. Everyone knew she just wanted to look at the pretty girls in it.

But the beautiful girl in front of him was Falco’s daughter.

The boy had wild blond waves and bright blue eyes. His red shirt was gone, and now Raven could see that the dirt was not only on his cheek and neck but also streaked across his chest and arms. Some of it looked like oil. Raven needed to say something, but he beat her to it.
“You shouldn’t be out here.” Sure, it was dirty, noisy and dangerous, but it was better than being inside. Not that this boy would understand that. “It’s dangerous.”
Raven scoffed. “Maybe I like dangerous.”

He grinned as she climbed down from the crumbled wall.
“I’m Strat.” Raven looked for somewhere to go, somewhere the militia and her parents wouldn’t look for her. Now that she was outside, she wanted to stay here as long as she could.
“I’m Raven.” Spotting something red, she walked over to it and picked it up. Was this Strat’s shirt?
“You’re beautiful.” He reached for her, and she flinched. Then Raven felt a pang of guilt. She just wasn’t used to being around other people.
“Well, you’re—” Before she could tell him the same thing, her father’s voice boomed out from a balcony above.

“Raven! Get back inside! You punks have no idea what you’re messing with!”

He continued shouting, but Raven’s blood had turned to ice. He already knew she was gone? She’d hardly been outside for five minutes. Where could he hide?
“Raven,” Strat said urgently. She turned only to see militia swarming them. It didn’t matter what was going on. Raven couldn’t keep spending all of her time in the tower. As she moved to run, one of them grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air.

Struggling and screaming made no difference as she was carried back towards the tower. In her hands, she still held Strat’s shirt. No way was she dropping it. It would only get trampled on and all ruined. They neared the tower, and Raven finally felt the ground beneath her feet again, even if the guard still had his arm around her waist and was dragging her back.

Near one of the tower’s side entrances stood her mother since the main entrance was blocked by several of the Lost fighting the militia. She reached out with one hand and held her mostly empty cocktail glass in the other. She grabbed her mother’s hand, if only to be free of the guard’s iron grip, and was ushered inside.

Her mother didn’t let go of her until she was safely back in her room.
“Stay here. You know your father will be mad at you when he returns,” she said. Raven’s father was always mad about something. She moved to the mini bar and tried to pour herself another drink, only to find everything empty. Huffing, her mother headed for the door. “Stay here.” Then the door shut. Raven looked at Strat’s shirt, and hearing another loud bang, she rushed to the window and peered out.

The Lost and her father’s militia had stopped fighting, and it had returned to being more of a protest than a huge fight. The Lost chanted, and her father was yelling at them. Probably calling them punks and telling them they were useless and a waste of space.

Raven set Strat’s shirt on her bed and then realised that her mother would be a while. She ran for her bedroom doors and to the stairs. Her mother never used the stairs when she was drunk, which was most of the time, but especially now.

When she reached the bottom, she dashed through the doors, ignoring the guards in the foyer.
“Get out of here, you freaks!” One of the Lost, bottle in hand, ran towards Falco as he shoved another member of The Lost to the floor. The bottle shattered over her father’s head, and Raven gasped. Falco looked around and spotted a younger member of The Lost spray painting ‘Wasted Youth’ on the side of the tower.
“You,” her father snarled at the boy. He grabbed him and pulled him to the floor, punching the boy. That kid was younger than she was. “Is this what you want? Is it?”

“Tink!”

That was Strat’s voice, and Raven turned to look at him as he ran at Falco.
“Get off of him!” Strat pushed her father off the youngest boy as some of the Lost ran to pull Strat away.
“Leave it.”
“Come on.” The Lost encouraged Strat to walk away, and then his gaze met hers, and she couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how he called her beautiful. His shirt was currently on her bed.

“You keep your hands off my daughter. You hear me?” said Falco as he pulled his shirt off, readying for a fistfight. One of the other boys grabbed Strat by the arm and started pulling him away. He lingered for a moment more before turning and running down the street. “Well, come on you little punk!” Her father started running after him, and Raven did too, only for the guards to grab her again.
“Let go of me!”

As she was dragged back inside the tower for the second time, Raven could hear her father shouting about how he would destroy all of The Lost. But her thoughts quickly changed to the wild blonde boy. Strat.

Chapter Text

Finally! Sloane leaned back on the sofa with a full drink in hand. All the servants were in disarray after the protest, and it took longer than she would have liked to have refilled her glass. It was a simple gin and tonic, though heavy on the gin, and Sloane sipped it. She let out a long, deep sigh and closed her eyes.

“Can you believe they want to destroy my new housing project?”

Falco slammed the door shut behind him, and Sloane glared at him. He was putting his shirt back on, though she wasn’t sure why he’d had it off. Only his face had been injured, and it looked like it had been cleaned. He was wiping his hands on a rag or towel as he walked over to the sofa.
“Disastrous,” she replied. Sloane knew it wasn’t the housing project that the Lost hated. That was just one part of the problem her husband refused to address.

Falco leaned against the arm of the chair, facing away from her.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he muttered.
“Yep.” Sloane raised her glass to that and sipped, feeling the warmth of the gin.
“First the power plant, now this.” He scoffed, and Sloane rolled her eyes while he still couldn’t see her. “Say, is Raven in bed?”
“Yes.” Raven had sneaked back outside in the five minutes it had taken Sloane to find a servant to get her another drink. The guards had brought Raven back again and taken her to her bedroom themselves, much to her annoyance. Sloane had checked herself afterwards.

“What’s going on with her and those kids?” Falco asked. Sloane’s head snapped towards him. He asked it so casually that anyone would think he was just curious, but Sloane knew better.
Sloane lifted her hand to smooth her hair and shrugged. “Teenagers.” Heaven knew Raven had never been allowed to be a regular teenager, so she wanted to do the most common thing a teenager could do: rebel. Raven wanted to hang around with the wild and unruly Lost kids.

Falco stuck his hands in his pockets. “You know, all every parent wants is a thank you.”
“Hm, and all every child wants is an I’m sorry.” Sloane wondered what kind of face he was pulling while his back was turned. “You know what she said to me today? She told me that I was unattractive and jealous. That I was,” Sloane sat up and imitated her daughter, “consumed by jealousy. Huh.” She slouched back down onto the sofa. Raven didn’t mean it. At least, Sloane was fairly sure she didn’t.
“Wow.” Her husband sounded slightly sarcastic, but was that just the alcohol clouding her mind? “Do you still find me attractive?”

Sloane stared at her husband. He had been a good-looking man all those years ago, and sexy as hell. He hadn’t aged poorly, not physically.
“I mean, who needs the young anyway? The revelation of their faces when all we have is withered traces of what we once were.”
“Hey!” Sloane protested as she moved to lie down. Falco grabbed his shirt from where it had been left on a side table and finally put it back on. He might consider himself withered and wrinkly, but she was not.
“They celebrate every little thing they do like it’s some big achievement that they’ve got something we haven’t,” he continued complaining. “Like all that sadomasochistic stuff.”
She poked him with her toes. “Disgusting.”

Sloane watched Falco as he finished buttoning his shirt, and then she turned back to her glass. It started to get a little fuzzy.
“My eyes just aren’t what they were,” she sighed. It might be the alcohol, but she swore that it was getting harder to see things at distances lately.
“Mine aren’t either,” he agreed. He’d put off wearing glasses, but Falco needed them to read and write all his stupid contracts.
“And is there anyone who can kiss anymore?” Sloane continued. Her husband didn’t bother with kissing her on the cheek goodbye or the sweet forehead kisses while cuddling.

Falco adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve, and Sloane sat up, looking at him. Waiting to see what he’d say. He didn’t say anything. Not even a huff in response to her slight dig.
“My mind just isn’t what it was,” she continued. Every second of sobriety was stressful. Living in this shit world was driving her insane. She rolled onto her back, careful not to spill the last mouthful of her gin and tonic. She stretched her legs over the back of the sofa and sighed. Even her dreams were dull, not that she often dreamt anymore. No wonder Raven wanted to act out when she couldn’t dream.

“My legs just aren’t what they were,” said Falco. He moved to sit on the arm of the chair again, and Sloane tried not to roll her eyes at him as he stretched out his legs.
“I just can’t dance the way I used to.” Dance? Well, Sloane still danced just fine at clubs, but she couldn’t do it for nearly as long as she used to, and the hangover the next day was always so much worse. “I can’t just command a room the way I used to. No one respects me anymore.”

God, someone needed to silence him.

Sloane climbed onto the back of the sofa, and Falco sat down, still complaining.
“My sex just isn’t what it was.” Another jab, but he didn’t seem to care about that.
“No, it’s just not the same as it used to be.” Currently, their sex life was in pieces. They never slept together often, and even when they did, it just didn’t have the same lust or sensuality. It was like they were going through the motions, the same way someone would make a cup of coffee in the morning. Sloane missed the youthful excitement of it all, the way they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and how they teased and flirted. There wasn’t much tension involved now, just Sloane being tipsy and horny and Falco wanting to relieve a bit of stress in that way. As Falco leaned back, Sloane wobbled and found herself on the floor. Thankfully, she hadn’t wasted a precious drop of it.

“No, who needs the young? We’re growing older, and there’s nothing to do about it. No good worrying about kids these days. What we need to worry about is…” Groaning, Sloane picked herself up off the floor. Not even an ‘Are you okay?’ passed his lips. She huffed. He didn’t want to worry about those kids and yet spent half of his time fighting against their protests. “It’s not like youth is everything, right?”

Not like youth is everything? Oh, what Sloane wouldn’t give to be young and carefree. As much as she loved Raven, she had been too young and stupid, and the world had been too much of a mess. When she was young, she was so beautiful Falco couldn’t look away. But now, Falco was so consumed by his vision of the future that he couldn’t see what he was missing in the present. He couldn’t see how much Raven was hurting, how much she was hurting.

“No,” said Sloane with a shrug as she headed towards the door. After all that had happened today with Raven going out into the protest, she needed to sleep. Maybe she’d check Raven had gone to bed like she was meant to on the way. “Who needs it when we can spend the rest of our miserable lives learning to die?”

Sloane slammed the sitting room door shut behind her.

Chapter Text

Sleep? What was sleep?

Raven didn’t want to sleep. Her heart and mind raced too much to settle in her bed and drift off into nothingness. So she blasted the radio as loud as she dared, holding onto Strat’s shirt as she lay on her bed with her head hanging over the end.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Don’t come in.” It was undoubtedly one of her parents, ready to tell her she shouldn’t be playing music or even be awake. And then she’d get a lecture, but Raven didn’t care. The adrenaline rush from being amongst The Lost had been the most alive she’d felt in years.

Hearing a thud, she turned to see a flash of blond curls as a boy reached for a magazine she’d left on the floor. One of the ones her father had shown her because she was in them for her birthday interviews. Their eyes met for a second, but then Strat was gone again. She headed towards the huge window, hoping to glimpse him. How had he even gotten all the way up to her bedroom?

A hand on her shoulder made her flinch.
“I thought I told you not to go outside.” Her mother’s cross face stared at her, but at least it wasn’t her father.
“The sea is watching the sky. The sky is watching the sea. Nothing will ever happen.” Raven moved to sit on her bed, but Sloane shut the window. “No, don’t close that!” She dramatically reached for it, and Sloane chuckled.
“Okay, okay. Come on, time for bed.” She pulled Raven to her feet, and Raven sighed. How was she ever supposed to sleep?

“Mom, why are they different?” Raven asked as she climbed onto her bed.
“Because they don’t have a mother who loves them as much as I love you,” Sloane said, but Raven rolled her eyes.
“I’m not a kid anymore.” She deserved to know why those kinds hadn’t gotten any older. She was going to be eighteen tomorrow anyway.
“Okay,” Sloane said quietly, nodding. “Those kids out there on the street? They’re mutants. Nobody knows how or why, but something happened to them, and now they’re doomed to never grow up.”
“Never?” Raven whispered, looking at her mom with wide eyes. What was it like for them to live so long but always stay the same?

“They’re frozen forever at the age of eighteen. They’re Freezers!” Raven had seen the newspapers use that word to describe them. “Forever lost. Dangerous monsters who hate good girls like you.” Raven turned to look at her mother more sceptically. “Doomed to be wild and reckless with no parents to look after them, no one to love them and no one to care.” Sloane dragged out her words in a dramatic fashion, but Raven scoffed. Raven did not want to be a good girl. She wanted to go out with the Lost and be like them.
“Is that meant to sound scary? Because it’s sounds wonderful!”
“Depends on how you look at it. To be forever eighteen and irresponsible? It’d be fucking great.” Sloane said it like a joke, but Raven could hear the sadness in her voice. “Now come it, it’s time for fucking bed, let’s go.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “You’re so inappropriate sometimes.”
“Am fucking not,” her mother replied with a grin. Raven grabbed her pillow and threw it at her. Why did her mother have to be so embarrassing? The pillow hit her side, and Raven grabbed it, intending to hit her back. Her mother grabbed the other pillow from the top of Raven’s bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

All the fun vanished.
“It’s your dad,” Sloane said as she turned to look at the door. Quickly, Raven pulled the covers over her before the door opened. Falco cleared his throat. He stood at the end of her bed. Raven peered over the covers to see her mom standing on her bed, holding the pillow on her head.
“I’m a lamp,” she said. Then she did this silly wiggle. “Turn me on.” So much for her not being inappropriate.

Falco pushed her onto the floor, and Raven frowned, letting go of the covers.
“Ouch,” muttered Sloane as she threw the pillow at Falco.
“Come on,” he sighed. Raven’s father moved to sit in front of her on her bed as her mother got to her feet. Raven moved to put the pillow back where it belonged. “You should be asleep.”

Something hit the window and shattered.

Falco stood.
“Keep away from the window.” Raven quickly darted around him, only for him to grab her arm and spin her back around and onto her bed.
“I just wanna see what it is, Dad,” she protested. She wanted to know which of The Lost had thrown something so high. Was it Strat? Or was it one of the others having one last stand against her father?
“I said, keep away from the window.” Raven’s back pressed against the headboard of her bed as her father sat so close she had no chance of moving anywhere. He pointed his finger at her as her arm ached where he’d grabbed it. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Raven rubbed at where he’d grabbed. At least it wasn’t hard enough to bruise, or so she hoped. “You hurt my arm.”

Raven tried to keep her breathing steady as her father sighed and moved back. Behind him, her mother had picked up a drink. Did he ever realise how harsh he was and how suffocating all the rules were? Her gaze turned to the window. She hoped Strat had thrown whatever it was to get her attention. If she was with Strat, there wouldn’t be any more rules. No more sleeping pills, dream suppressants and stupid interviews with magazines. She’d be outside and free.

“Stop thinking about those kids.” Her father turned her chin back to him, and she frowned.
“Why do you hate everyone?” If it wasn’t The Lost, it was the people he worked with. If it wasn’t them, it was her mother. They never got along anymore. “You never let me outside, and you just keep me locked up here—”
“Like a good girl.” Raven clenched her duvet cover in her hand.
“You know, no one ever asked me if I wanted to be a good girl,” she spat. “You just decided that for me.” Raven wanted to leave, but Falco grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to her bed. The same arm as earlier.

“Raven, please!”
“Dad—”
“Don’t you see what they did to me?” His voice grew louder, and Raven shrunk back. Her arm ached more now. The cut on his face was deep enough to scar, and it was lucky that the bottle hadn’t caught his eye, but he had been the one who was beating up that kid after the protest. He looked so young compared to the others.
“Hey, hey!” Sloane sat beside him, touching his shoulder to calm him down. It only worked about half of the time.
“Do you want this to happen to you?” he asked Raven. He pointed to the wound on his face. “Those kids are dangerous.”
“I know.”

“Haven’t I given you everything?” Falco asked. Great. Another attempt at making her feet guilty and ungrateful. She appreciated all the clothes, makeup and expensive guitars, but it wasn’t the same as going outside. The most fresh air she got was from opening a window.
Raven leaned back against her wall. “No.”
“What more could you possibly want?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Raven shrugged. Then she leaned forward, desperately hoping that, maybe this time, he’d listen to her. “Everything. Something unknown.” Something exciting that wasn’t the same old routine every day.
“So you don’t know,” he said, nodding to himself. He cupped Raven’s face, and it took everything for her not to push him away. “But I do.”

He sighed and stood, walking towards the window.
“Yes, because you know everything.” Her mother said the words that they were both thinking.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Haven’t got a clue,” Sloane said. It was the alcohol, probably. They always argued when things like this happened, and her mother’s drinking only exacerbated things.
Falco let out a short laugh. “You can say that again.”
“Haven’t got a clue.”

Falco raised his hand. “Don’t—”
“No!” In a second, Raven was off her bed and standing between her parents.
“Raven!” he warned.
“No!” He pushed her aside, her face hitting the bed, but she was straight back up again. Her father took a deep breath and turned away. Raven exchanged glances with her mother.

“Okay, okay,” he said slowly. “Hey, aren’t we forgetting what a great day tomorrow’s going to be? Our little girl is growing up.” He turned back to them with a grin on his face. Raven didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t want to grow up if it meant she was still trapped inside. Raven wasn’t stupid. She knew that the outside wasn’t beautifully decorated, it was rotting and rusted and ruined. But she wanted to know what it was like all the same.
“I’m not. I’d rather be frozen.”
Sloane’s face turned serious. “That’s not funny, Raven.” Her father was desperately trying not to snap again.
“It’s gonna be eighteen years, kiddo.”
“Yeah, eighteen years in a convent.”

Falco clenched his fist and moved to leave.
“It’s a big day tomorrow, and you need to sleep. Have you taken your pills?” Falco asked. He put his arm around Sloane.
“Yes,” she lied with a roll of her eyes. Then he turned to her mother.
“You need to sleep too. How much have you had?” They both left her alone. And Raven let out a frustrated groan.

Why was he so… so irritating?

She hated that he was right about her needing to sleep. The adrenaline from the protest was wearing off, and she fought back a yawn.

Lying back on her bed, Raven stared at the ceiling. She hadn’t taken the dream suppressants for days but she still wasn’t dreaming. In truth, Raven missed those dangerous dreams. She missed the excitement she felt in them.

Part of her wanted to dream of Strat. The wild blond curls. The way he looked at her… Raven had never seen anyone look at someone like how he looked at her. Part of her knew it was ridiculous, that this boy would never be allowed anywhere close to her again. The thoughts of him might pass like a fever, getting worse with unbearable heat and gradually fading again.

Why wouldn’t these thoughts quit?

Raven stared at the shirt on her bedside table and reached for it. Strat’s shirt, covered in dirt and grime from protesting in the street. She still wondered how he’d climbed up to her bedroom to take that magazine. How did he climb so high? How did no one notice?

Climbing out of bed, she wandered around her room, moving in circles, dancing to a tune she hummed. Anything to try to make herself tired. Anything to stop her mind from thinking of that beautiful boy. The thoughts of Strat would pass, she kept telling herself. But Raven was still awake, and this was the third day she’d hardly slept.

But her mind wouldn’t quit. The thoughts of Strat wouldn’t quit. Her cheeks flushed every time she pictured his face, and her heart raced when she remembered him calling her beautiful. Raven had no choice but to embrace every thought of their brief time in the street, every idea of how he could get back to her. No one had noticed him climbing up earlier except for her. What if he did it again?

She looked at the shirt she’d been turning in her hands with each step. Blood red with those two lines across it, and the dirt and oil smeared across the hem. Most of The Lost had that symbol on them, either on their clothes or painted on their face or arms. Despite the shirt seeming old, it was soft, and Raven knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

Strat’s shirt was big on her, but it was comfy, and Raven lay back on her bed, prepared to toss and turn as she inhaled the scent of Strat. The thoughts wouldn’t quit, and maybe, deep down, she didn’t want to stop thinking of him because she couldn’t stop smiling when she did. Raven longed for her heart to race like it had when she first saw him.

Raven didn’t know what the feeling was, but perhaps she didn’t want it to quit.

Strat’s heart raced the entire time he climbed down Falco Tower, down from Raven’s bedroom. He had to keep switching his magazine from hand to hand to keep it safe, and when he reached the bottom, he stayed and looked up. Would he see her face again? Their eyes had met, so it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him.

Glancing around, Strat found a few small bits of rubble and tried to aim for her window. Finally, on the third attempt, half of an old bottle hit the window Raven usually peered out of. The glass bottle shattered as it hit, and Strat panicked. What if he broke the window? He’d be so fucked.

Hearing a door creak, Strat bolted. His motorbike was parked where he’d left it earlier, and he fumbled to start the engine. He had to get far from the tower, even if it meant leaving Raven behind. Strat would see her again, and he’d make sure of it. Even if it meant climbing all the way back up there.

The Deep End didn’t take too long to reach on his motorbike. Almost everyone else was already back before him.
“We sure showed Falco,” said Jagwire, and Strat nodded. “He won’t dare mess with us now.”
“Not anytime soon,” Ledoux added, nodding as he offered them a drink. Strat shook his head and looked around.
“Where’s Tink?” he asked. They both looked at each other and shrugged.
“No idea. Thought Tink was with you,” Ledoux said. Strat shook his head again and frowned. Tink hadn’t been caught, had he? They’d stopped Falco from beating him, but he hadn’t run into his militia somewhere, had he?

Strat felt the poster slip from his hands as a familiar bandanna-wearing man snatched it away.
“What’s this?” Blake asked with a grin. “Found something for you to look at tonight?”
“Shut up,” Strat muttered as he snatched the poster back.
“Stop being a dick, Blake,” said Valkyrie as she snatched the poster back. She looked at the picture of Raven on the cover and hummed. “Falco might be the worst, but his daughter’s kinda hot, right? Where did you steal this from?”

Rolling his eyes, Strat snatched the poster back and headed to his mattress over the far side of the tunnel. Just as he lay down, he heard a crash.
“Hey, Tink! You okay?” Jagwire called out. Start sat up to see Jag headed down the tunnel to where Tink was.
“Touch my bike, and I’ll kick your ass!” he yelled back. Strat chuckled. Tink was fine.
“Easy, Tink,” said Jagwire, holding his hands up defensively. “I was just trying to help.” Tink grabbed his baseball bat from his bike and frowned.
“Why? Cause I can’t help myself?” he asked. “Cause I’m smaller, weaker and younger than you?”
“Yeah.” Jag pushed Tink.

Strat jumped to his feet, and Tink prepared to fight back. Thankfully, Valkyrie had already pulled the bat from Tink’s hand, and Ledoux had grabbed him.
“Woah, woah,” Strat said, getting between the two. “Jag’s just trying to look out for you, man. Like we all are.” Pouting, Tink crossed his arms, and Strat threw his arm around him.
“I know,” Tink muttered as Jag stormed off.
“And you wonder why they’re all scared of you,” he laughed as he walked Tink over to his mattress and away from the others. Tink eyed him suspiciously, but there was the hint of a smile.
“I don’t scare you, though, do I?” Tink asked as he sat down on one end and Strat sat on the other.
Strat shook his head. “No, not me.” Tink could be intimidating. He had a mean swing with that baseball bat, but truthfully, he was younger and smaller than everyone else.

Spotting a cut on Tink’s forehead, Strat reached for a clean rag.
“Let me look at that,” he said. Tink didn’t pull away as he dabbed at the wound, soaking up some blood as he wiped away the dirt. “You know, Tink, you really shouldn’t be hanging around with us at all.” It was dangerous. Especially with earlier, Strat could never forgive himself if Falco had really hurt him.
“I know, I’m a mutation of a mutation,” Tink muttered. “Frozen before anyone else. Before all of the good shit.” Tink’s voice grew louder, and Strat tried to ruffle his hair
“Settle down, Tinkerboy.”

Tink pulled away then and frowned, crossing his arms. Immediately, Strat knew he’d said the wrong thing.
“Stop treating me like your little pet!” Tink stood, and Strat followed him. A pet was the last thing Tink was. Tink was stuck in the cute phase. He was like Strat’s little brother. He was a little annoying and a little cool, but at the end of the day, they were best friends.
“Hey, hey!” Strat said, putting his arms around Tink’s waist. He growled and lifted Tink up. Thankfully, Tink laughed, and Strat continued until they were back on his mattress.

Then Tink’s hand rested on his shoulder, and the younger boy leaned up to him for a kiss. Strat pulled away. Tink’s eyes widened as he moved to sit up.
“I’m sorry,” Strat said immediately. He didn’t think that way about Tink. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, I’m sleepy,” Tink said with a slight shrug. He looked away, frowning, and Strat knew there was more to it than that. But he doubted Tink would open up. He never did. Almost all of them had rough pasts, but Strat knew Tink had it worse than most from being frozen so young.

So Strat did the one thing that would cheer up Tink: Strat grabbed Tink’s hand.
“The beat is yours forever,” he sang, and Tink narrowed his eyes at him. Strat clapped his other hand around Tink’s.
Tink did the same. “The beat is always true.”
“And when you really, really need it the most, that’s when rock and roll dreams come through,” both sang together. Tink grinned, and Strat couldn’t help but do the same.
“Now get some sleep,” he said to Tink. He needed it. After the events of today, they all did. He turned to the rest of them. “All of you too!”

The rest of the Lost responded with a mix of murmurs and shouts.
“You’re not my mom!”
“Sleep is for the weak.”
Strat laughed and exchanged a look with Tink, knowing that when it was tomorrow, they’d regret not sleeping.
“Or don’t!” he yelled back.

Tink settled down in his own space, removing his knee pads and shoes. He pulled an old blanket over him, and Strat frowned. Tink would get over the crush if that was what it was. Strat knew the boy looked up to him, but Strat always thought it was more brotherly.

Sighing, Strat sat back down and shuffled to where Tink had been sitting moments ago. The poster lay by the mattress, and he picked it up, looking at Raven’s beautiful face on the cover.
“Still looking at that magazine?” Valkyrie asked. Both she and Kwaidan were sitting beside him.
“I just keep thinking about her,” he admitted. “I know it’d be easier if I didn’t, but…”
“You can’t stop?” asked Valkyrie, and Strat nodded. “Just think of someone else.” If only it was that easy.
“It was so easy before,” he groaned as he took the magazine and unfolded it. Strat had gotten almost everything he had wanted, but now there was Raven. A girl he’d never be able to have because she was a Falco.

Strat couldn’t remember a time he didn’t hate Falco, even back when they were young before The Lost were frozen. Falco had always been so arrogant, so sure of what he was doing. So sure he was always right. But he wasn’t. Ever since the earthquakes and becoming frozen, every protest, every fight, every day had been spent trying to ruin Falco’s stupid redevelopments.

But now there was Raven.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about her?” he asked.
“Maybe you like that she’s unobtainable,” said Kwaidan with a shrug. “It’s not like we see her outside much, or even at Falco’s presentations and galas.”
“I always crush on straight girls when I’m desperate, and I know I can’t be with them,” said Valkyrie. Kwaidan raised her eyebrows at the other girl. “Maybe it’s like that.”
“You crush on straight girls when you’re desperate?”
“Like I said, desperate.”

Strat stared at them and sighed again before looking down at the picture of Raven. Was he desperate? Maybe something had possessed him, and that was why the thoughts wouldn’t quit. Was Raven really someone he’d never get a chance with? He supposed if The Lost ruined her father’s plans, he didn’t know what would happen to her. Maybe she’d hate them all and hate him too. Strat thought he knew exactly what his plans were, but now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t let Falco destroy their home, but Raven…

“Strat?” asked Valkyrie. The two girls exchanged glances before looking at Strat. He snapped out of his stupor and shrugged.
“I don’t know what it is, but it just won’t quit.”

Chapter Text

When Sloane woke from her short nap, not only did she feel slightly more sober, she was relieved. Her husband had decided to sleep in a different bedroom.

Quickly, she sat at her vanity and fixed her makeup, wiping clean the lipstick smears and neatly reapplying it. Sloane searched through her wardrobe for the perfect dress. Nothing too sexy, and something she could spend the night in. She wanted to go out until dawn, and that meant she had to be able to breathe and sit in it. But she also needed some glamour. She settled on a black and silver sequined dress and boots with chunky heels.

At the bottom of the wardrobe was a pale pink box with a matching ribbon bow on top. Raven’s present. Knowing her father would spend a slightly excessive amount of money on presents, Sloane thought it would be nice to gift her something more personal for her eighteenth birthday. Her old jacket, which was actually Falco’s old biking jacket that she’d sort of stolen back when they had been young and reckless. Falco had no idea she was going to give it to Raven.

Maybe, after Raven had dealt with her father and those kids protesting, she could do with a nice surprise. Besides, Sloane had the feeling she’d be awake anyway. She had noticed Raven’s desperation to go out even amid of chaos. Pulling the box out, she tucked it under one arm as she shut the wardrobe and headed to her daughter’s bedroom.

Surprisingly, Raven was asleep. Sloane set the box on the box next to her and frowned. She didn’t want to wake her daughter up, especially since she was sure Raven hadn’t been sleeping much lately. She knew those pills would stop working eventually, and if Falco thought he could give her anything stronger… Well, Sloane was prepared for more arguments.

She kissed Raven’s forehead before heading over to the window. The present would still be a nice surprise for when she woke. As Sloane looked out, she had to hold herself back from sighing. Everything was so small from the windows up here, no wonder Raven wanted to know what it was like down there. If only Falco would loosen his iron grasp a little bit.

Turning, Sloane crouched and looked at Raven’s diary. What had she been writing in there? What did her daughter think of her and her father?

A thundering noise rattled through her and she quickly stood. She could have sworn it was a train, but none of the trains had run for years. Still, she wasn’t taking the chance that Raven would catch her trying to read her diary, so she quickly stepped in front of the mirror to check herself out. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, but she could still have fun.

“Mom?” Raven sounded panicked and Sloane stopped to look at her daughter. She stood on her bed with red eyes and smudged mascara.
“Raven, sweetheart,” she said as she walked over. “Have you been crying?”
“No… No.” Her voice and face betrayed her.

Raven put her arms on Sloane’s shoulders and furrowed her brow. “What are you wearing?” Sloane looked Raven up and down and then realised what she was wearing. It was just a t-shirt, that was stained at the bottom. Where had she seen it before?
“Uh, what are you wearing?” Sloane asked as she pointed at the shirt. “Where did that come from?” Raven rolled her eyes and shrugged as she got down from standing on the bed. “Did you take that shirt from that kid?” Strat was the leader of the Lost, and Falco hated him the most.
“His name is Strat.” Ravens smiled as she dragged out the ‘a’ in Strat.
“Uh, excuse me, I know what his name is,” Sloane responded, dragging out the vowels in her own words. Raven sighed as she sat down on the chair by the door.

Sloane had a thousand things running through her head. She wanted to tell Raven to change into something else, in case her father saw her in it and started shouting again. But the way Raven smiled reminded Sloane of herself when she was Raven’s age, stupidly in love.

“Hey, I got something for you.” Sloane sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed the present she’d brought with her. “An early birthday present.”
“Mom,” Raven gasped as she leaned forward and pulled off the lid. Her eyes widened as she saw the leather jacket inside, all neatly folded.
“When I was eighteen I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be free, and fall in love,” she said. Raven pulled the jacket out of the box and Sloane smiled. All those times she’d glanced at Falco with her teenage her madly in love with him. It was fun and wild, and now she was sneaking out in the middle of the night because she couldn’t go anywhere without him knowing. Her voice grew quiet. “And I’m not free.” She wasn’t sure she was still in love either.

“Mom, are you okay?” Raven asked. Sloane saw the jacket in Raven’s hands, and set aside the empty box.
“Baby, it is too late for me, but it is not too late for you,” she said as she took the jacket from her, turning it around so Raven could put it on. She helped Raven into it. It was big on her as it had been on Sloane when she’d worn it all those years ago. “I’m not gonna let you make the same mistakes I’ve made. I want you to be free. I want you to fall in love.” Raven stood in front of the mirror and Sloane fixed the collar where it was stuck inside at the back. At least Raven was happy with it. Sloane hugged her from behind and Raven grinned.

“You know, this used to be your Dad’s.” Raven’s eyebrows raised and she turned in it, trying to look at the back.
“Oh wow, cool.” Sloane glimpsed herself in the mirror. She didn’t look bad for her age, not really. All the drinking and hardly going outside was ruining her, though. Sloane could find someone who’d treat her better than Falco, even at the dive bar in the Deep End. Sloane smoothed out her own dress.
“Raven, sweetheart, mummy is going out.” She made claws with her hands and pawed like a cat. Raven laughed. “Please don’t tell your dad.” Raven stared at her with wide eyes. Sloane smoothed out Raven’s hair behind her ear and hummed. “Hey, maybe if you can keep a secret, I’ll take you with me.”

As if Raven needed a reason to keep secrets from her father. Still, Sloane had thought about it before. Now Raven was turning eighteen, she’d be an adult, and it wouldn’t be so bad if Sloane took her out to explore the world, even if it was just a little.
“Really?”
Sloane laughed. “If you don’t go over the top, how are you going to see what’s on the other side?”

Chapter Text

Last night felt like a lifetime ago, and Strat stared at the brick ceiling above him. Tink had gone out somewhere, as had Jag, leaving him to his heart-rending misery and longing. What was he supposed to do? How would he ever see Raven again?

Zahara’s heels clicked as she strutted through the Deep End like nothing fazed her, though Strat knew lots of things did.
“Hey, do you think Falco’s gonna bulldoze the Deep End?” she asked him. She tossed down a magazine that he picked up, hoping it would mention Raven. It was one of those small inserts that tended to fall out. Zahara had probably found it on the pavement.
“Not after what we did to him yesterday,” he replied. Zahara’s hand trailed up his thigh as she laughed in response. Strat turned to look at her. “Hey, uh, not tonight, okay?”
“You’re turning me down?” Her eyebrows raised at him, and Strat sighed, setting the small magazine booklet aside.

This wasn’t the first time he’d turned her down lately. Strat knew Jag was into her, and he just didn’t feel the same as he used to, what point was there in dragging it all out? Especially not when he had to figure out a way to see Raven again. Part of him longed for someone who understood him in a way Zahara never did.

“On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?” He put his arm around Zahara, and she brushed her fingers over the back of his neck.
“That’s beautiful.” Zahara cupped his cheek with her other hand. “You have such a way with words.”
“You’re meant to come up with a response,” Strat said. And all she did was dismiss it, not even an attempt at coming up with something. He turned to the magazine, wondering if Raven was mentioned inside. It seemed to be one for makeup, and the poster he snatched yesterday had an interview with her about her favourite makeup brands.
“Oh.” Zahara seemed shocked.
“Yeah, it’s just…” He trailed off. Explaining it would make it sound stupid. “Forget it.”

Zahara gave him a flirty grin and shuffled even closer.
“Well, no one could ever match tongues with you Strat.” Zahara’s hand glided up his thigh again. “Not that I wouldn’t like to try.” Strat gently lifted her hand away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t do this anymore.” Zahara was strong, sassy and beautiful. Before, Strat would have been all over her, but now…
“You need to stop,” she said as she stood up. “You need to forget about that rich bitch Raven.”
“Why?” His voice came out too quiet. Even if he forgot about Raven, it didn’t mean he would suddenly want Zahara again. Jag’s feelings for her only made him want to step back even more.
“Trust me, I know.” Zahara had an edge to her voice as she leaned down and narrowed her eyes. “Girls like that don’t want anything to do with guys like you, and we want nothing to do with Falco. You’re messing with fire, Strat.”

When he didn’t say anything, Zahara shook her head and walked away. He couldn’t help that Raven was Falco’s daughter, and neither could she. There just had to be some way of seeing her. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Raven, and maybe Zahara was right that he was messing with fire, but Strat longed to be burned by it.

He grabbed the poster of Raven again, unfolding it and admiring her beauty. Was she what she seemed in the articles? Maybe if he could ask her that question if he could see her again…

Every nerve in his body was set on fire by the very thought of it. Every muscle revolted against him lying down. So Strat moved and wondered just how he could get Raven. How could he see her again when she was stuck in Falco Tower under her tyrannical father’s gaze?

“Tink!” he exclaimed as his best friend walked in. Strat hugged him tightly and then pulled away. “Tink, I have to see her.”
Tink’s grin faltered. “Whoa.”
“Tonight.” It had to be tonight. Strat couldn’t wait any longer. “I’m gonna get her tonight.”
“Okay, just breathe a little bit?” Tink suggested. Strat ran to the door, and Tink grabbed his arm. “Just breathe.”

He couldn’t just rush over to Falco Tower and grab her. There would be more guards there than there were yesterday. Strat would be beaten to death.
“Maybe we should kidnap her.” It was a wild idea, but it might work. Raven wouldn’t have tried to escape in the middle of a protest if she wasn’t desperate to leave, right?
“Kidnap her?” Tink exclaimed. At that, a few of the others turned their heads to look at him.
“I don’t know. We could ask for ransom?” They did need the money too. Maybe they could buy them all a place to live in, and Strat could fetch Raven back again. It was daring and exciting.
“Ransom would be sweet!” shouted Ledoux as he put his arm around Strat’s shoulders.
“What’s ransom?” Tink asked. Ledoux looked at him like he was stupid, but Tink wasn’t. He was just young and naive, as much as Tink protested otherwise.

“It’s what you ask for when you’ve taken something that doesn’t belong to you,” Valkyrie said, emphasising the last four words. She crossed her arms, looking at Strat with a stern expression. Her brother, Blake, nodded in agreement.
“You can’t just take her,” he added. Strat looked around him, but Tink looked confused, and Ledoux’s grin meant he was in favour of the kidnapping. Jagwire was nowhere to be seen, and Strat was hoping he’d have something to say about it all. “Falco would send people after you to get her back.”
“But she’s so pure, and beautiful. I want her so bad, and she’s…” Strat frowned. “She’s so good.” Strat supposed that Raven didn’t belong to Falco, not if she was eighteen and an adult.

Tink grabbed his arm, and Strat turned to look at him, sitting back on his knees.
“Strat, you can’t go and kidnap Raven. Falco will kill you, and if you bring her here, he’ll kill all of us.”
“He’d have to find us first. He doesn’t even know where the Deep End is,” Strat retorted. “And who’s going to tell him?” None of the Lost would, and there were plenty of people who would happily turn a blind eye to something that upset Falco.
“Someone might. Someone could see you bring her here,” he argued. Tink’s frown deepened. “Strat, it’s a bad idea, and it’s not worth whatever ransom is.” Tink was right about that, ransom wouldn’t be worth it. If he ransomed her, he’d be exchanging Raven for money, and there would never be enough money in the world to trade for beauty like hers. No, if Raven came to the Deep End, he wanted her to stay, no matter how much they needed the money.

“I’m not being a part of this,” said Blake with his hands up. He started walking away. “I didn’t hear a thing.” But Ledoux grabbed him and lifted him up to bring him back to the small group they’d formed. Nearby, a few of the Lost were arguing over which of them was the best at gymnastics. Strat didn’t understand how they wanted to do gymnastics when the temperature was soaring higher and higher.

Their group watched for a moment, amazed at the tricks. Blake and Valkyrie were the only two who could do anything close to the flips they did.
“What’s wrong, Strat?” Tink asked. He must have looked uninterested.
“It’s just… I’m so hot and bored. Breathing is just no fun anymore,” he sighed. “Tink, I saw Raven and she was like a summer dream and the answer to every prayer I’ve ever said. What am I supposed to do?” Before Tink could say anything, the others repeated his words back in mocking voices.

Ledoux pulled him away and put his arm around him.
“You know, I get it. The pavement pulses like a runaway horse, and all you want to do is get to her.”
“And you looked awfully restless and reckless and lost outside earlier,” added Valkyrie. She’d seen him earlier doing that? Maybe Strat should have gone somewhere away from them all. “You’re really hoping she’s just gonna let you in her room? And then what?”
“She’ll say: I think it’s time for you to come inside. I’ll be waiting here with something that you’ll never forget.” Blake tried to be sexy, beckoning his finger and winking, but Strat could only laugh. He laughed harder when Valkyrie pushed her brother.
“What happened to not being part of it?” she asked. Blake only shrugged with a sheepish grin.

Turning, Strat spotted Tink holding his poster up, and Ledoux pushed him back onto a nearby mattress.
“Guys!” he yelled. At least it was onto a mattress. It wasn’t the worst thing they’d done. Tink stood in front of him, mimicking what Blake had done and thrusting the poster at him. Blake thrust his hips at the poster while Tink and Valkyrie made kissing noises at him. Strat playfully shoved them, and they laughed. “What am I actually going to do?”
“There’s probably a fire escape on the building, climb up it and find her room?” suggested Valkyrie.
“It’ll be guarded,” said Ledoux. “But just sneak past them.” Just sneak past them? Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a lot of guards since it was a fire escape after all. It wasn’t like anyone really used it except in an emergency.

“I’ve got to see her.” Strat pushed himself up and started heading out of the ancient tunnels, but Tink stood in front of him, still holding the poster of Raven.
“Strat, come on. You’ll just get caught.”
“I won’t. Besides, Tink, what else am I going to do?” As Strat turned to head up the steep stairs, Tink’s shoulders slumped.

The air out here wasn’t any fresher, and dark clouds lingered above. He wandered the streets until he heard voices echoing down a small side street. It was an electronics shop. Old but working TVs were in the window, playing the Obsidian News.
“And now we have a sneak preview of Raven Falco’s latest venture into the music industry. Here’s a clip from her upcoming music video,” the presenter said before it cut to Raven. Raven in his shirt while she plucked out a guitar solo.

It was his shirt.

She had to like him. Otherwise, why else would she be in his shirt, lounging across her bed and rocking out?

“You will be careful, won’t you?” Strat flinched to see Valkyrie with her arms crossed. “We don’t want to lose you.”
Strat nodded. “I will. I just…” His gaze turned back to the TV in the window. The presenters were replaying it because of how good it was. For once, Strat agreed with them.
“And it’s not kidnapping if she comes with you willingly,” she added. “Come on, wait until it gets dark. Besides, the others all want to keep teasing you about it. Ledoux and Blake have told literally everyone.”

Strat nodded and raced down the street with her, heading back into the tunnels to face his fate of never hearing the end of his idea to kidnap Raven. Going from just the four of them roasting him to all of them doing it was out of the frying pan and into the fire, but Strat didn’t mind.

Still, he could imagine himself climbing each step of the fire escape one at a time, heading into her room and finally hearing her heart race like his. Every part of him was burning up, and he couldn’t wait another day to see her.

Tonight. It had to be tonight.

After leaving Strat’s poster of that stupid girl on his bed, Tink retreated to his own corner. He supposed people would think of her as pretty, but he didn’t get it. Why was Strat going to run off with this girl? Tink had seen her at the protest, all prim and proper, without a speck of dirt on her white shoes. Strat liked a real woman, who wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Raven was the opposite of that.

Why did Strat love her?

Strat didn’t even know this Raven girl anyway. And what happened to Zahara? Tink knew there had been something between them, and Zahara had been annoyed that she’d been rejected in favour of Raven. While he hadn’t minded Strat and Zahara not being a thing anymore, Tink thought it meant Strat would spend less time with her and more time with him. But now, all Strat could think about was Raven.

Strat could say they were best friends all he wanted, but Tink feared it was all just pity. That’s why he never felt bad about leaving Tink on his own. Why he hadn’t asked Tink to come with him when he’d run away from home all those years ago.

Tink had hung out with Strat since they were all kids, even if Strat was a few years older than him. Unlike the others, Strat had always let Tink join the games. As they got older, Strat had grown wilder. He’d stayed out of the house longer and longer and hadn’t wanted Tink to get involved despite Tink’s longing to stay out late and rebel against the terrible world they lived i. He knew why: Strat didn’t want him to get hurt.

But then they froze.

Strat had run away years before with some older kids, preferring that to home. Tink never understood back then why, until after a few years his mother was taking him to as many different doctors as she could afford, only for them to all say the same thing.

Tink was frozen when he shouldn’t be. Everyone else got stuck at eighteen, and he hadn’t even hit puberty yet. Stuck before his growth spurt and before all the hormones kicked in.

Everything got worse, but that’s when he saw Strat again. He remembered the words and the tears all coming out at once when he explained one night what had happened. Strat had cared then, had promised they were still best friends, and told him to come and stay with the other Freezers that were calling themselves The Lost. He’d never really fit in, being too young, but Strat had been there for him.

Even when Strat had been with Zahara, he’d always been there for Tink. Always. But Strat had never loved Zahara like the way Strat was claiming to love this Raven girl that he didn’t even know. That kind of love would take up all of his time like it was now. And Tink would be left alone, with the others taunting him.

It wasn’t his fault he’d never get any bigger or stronger.

It was Falco’s fault, and here Strat was trying to kidnap his daughter. Even if Tink ignored his feelings, Strat messing with Falco’s daughter was a bad idea. It was enough of a struggle now, and Tink could only imagine what Falco would do in revenge if Strat managed to kidnap Raven or convince her to run away.

Tink decided that he had to talk to Strat about it. None of this could be any good. If he could make Strat realise how it would screw over the rest of them, maybe he’d forget about this Raven girl, and Tink wouldn’t be left alone.

Chapter Text

If Zahara thought that Jag wouldn’t notice her disappearing every evening, then she was wrong. He might not have been the brightest amongst the Lost, but he wasn’t completely stupid. Several nights a week, Zahara would slink off and Jag needed to know where.

A smog had settled on the Obsidian. It wasn’t even night, but with the fumes and filth, there was no hope of watching a sunset. Jagwire rode his motorbike up and down every main street, hoping to spot Zahara. She had hung out in one of the old museums she’d talked about when she was a kid, and she’d seen her around Falco Tower a few times before now.

As he sped past Falco Tower, Jagwire had to double-take to be sure that it was Zahara walking in that direction. He turned, pulled over, and revved the bike. Zahara jumped slightly and stared at him.
“Are you crazy, Jagwire? What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“What are you doing here at Falco Tower?” he asked as he climbed off his motorbike. He pointed at the tower, but Zahara shook her head.
“I’ve seen you here before.”
“Have you been following me?” she asked. Then she narrowed her eyes and shoved him hard. “Get lost! Falco will kill you if he finds you here!”
“Then… this might be the last time you see me alive.”

Zahara scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“Sure,” she muttered to herself. She glanced up at the tower, still brightly lit to pierce through the dingy air. Then, she perched on the seat of Jag’s motorbike.
“Oh, come on, Zahara. Why not? Just for the night?” Her short laugh was a knife to his heart. Jag wanted Zahara to have the world, even though they were stuck at the Deep End. Well, Jagwire supposed he did want to hook up, but that was only cause Zahara had made it clear that she wanted nothing more, so Jag took what he could get. “I want you so bad.”
“I know you do, but this is not the time,” she said as he sat next to her. The shadow of the tower loomed over them. “Or the place.”

“Do you have any idea of how much I love you?” Jagwire asked. His heart yearned for her. For her smile, her touch, her witty comments. He wanted them to be a couple, so they could chill together without anyone else tagging along. Zahara put her hands on her knees and shivered, so Jag placed his hand on hers. She was freezing, and he could so easily drive them somewhere warmer if only she’d let him.
“Yes,” she sighed. “More than you know.” So why was she so stubborn? Surely he wasn’t the only one feeling a connection. There was more to their relationship than just casual hookups.
“And most of all—”
“Stop, right now,” she said as she stood and walked away. She turned to look at him and shook her head. “No more, Jag. You should go. You know how it is. We can have some fun but—”
“You know it’s more than that.”

Zahara could lie to herself all she wanted, but if she didn’t love him, why did she always ask about him? Why did she always make a point to talk to him when she was bored, especially when Zahara could easily talk to anyone.

“Baby, we can talk all night, but that ain’t getting us nowhere,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve told you everything I can.” Everything except how Strat hurt her and broke her heart. Everyone knew it, and everyone saw it when she went near him, but she didn’t want to admit that the idea of Strat was holding her back.
He walked over to her. “Zahara—”
“There’s nothing left inside of here, Jag. Maybe you can cry all night, but that’ll never change the way that I feel.”

“I wish you wouldn’t make me leave here.” Couldn’t they just talk about it away from Falco Tower? They could go down to the lake, away from everyone, and talk it over. “I’ve tried to show you just how much I care, but you’ve been cold to me for so long.” Nothing he did was good enough for her, but still, he wanted her to love him anyway. Sighing, Zahara gently cupped his face.
“Jag, I want you. I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you.” Jag pulled away, frowning. “No, don’t be sad. Two out of three ain’t bad.”
“Zahara, I know you’re looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks, but I will try my hardest for you.”

Zahara turned away from him.
“Jag, I can’t tell you something I don’t believe. No matter how hard I try, I can’t give you something that I haven’t got. I just don’t love you, Jagwire.” He wasn’t sure if he believed that. “There’s only one boy that I’ve ever loved, and I know I’ll never get him out of my heart even though he never loved me back.”
“I know,” Jag said quietly. Strat had broken her heart because he couldn’t tell her that he loved her. Now she was doing the same to him. Telling him how much she wanted and needed him, but wasn’t ever going to love him. “But—”
“He kept telling me that two out of three ain’t bad,” she whispered. “And it’s not. What more can we ask for when the world’s like this, Jag? We can stand here and talk all night, but it ain’t getting us nowhere. You won’t accept that I just can’t love you. I’m sorry, Jag, but I have to go. And you should too, before Falco’s men find you here.”

Zahara strode off into the square, into the shadows of the buildings surrounding it. Sighing, Jag turned back to his motorcycle. Maybe he’d drive out to the lake by himself.

Zahara couldn’t believe Jagwire had dared to do that. Following her to Falco Tower and then refusing to listen when she told him to leave? He was stupid. He could have gotten caught by the militia that were patrolling or made her late.

As she headed inside the tower to reception, she clocked in and sighed. Two minutes until she started. She needed to get into her uniform quickly. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, even if it was as a stupid nurse. Falco was the only person that could offer a steady job. Before now all her jobs had let her go after a few months, sometimes after a week or two.

She headed to the locker room and changed into her uniform. Falco’s team always washed, dried and pressed it to perfection. The green polyester dress with white piping was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, which was saying a lot when she considered the Lost’s patched-together clothes. She pulled down the skirt and tried to ignore how the piping made her arms itch.

Even if she did like Jagwire, there was no reason for him to pester her and follow her all the way here. If the Lost knew that she worked here, they’d hate her for it, despite being the only way they could all afford food. Zahara could lie and say she found food on the pavement by luck, but no one was getting rid of a bagful of food when so many were like them, living off the streets and sheltering in broken buildings.

The receptionist popped her head around the door. She looked more tired than usual, but still had her red hair in a neat bun and her glasses perfectly cleaned.
“Zahara, could you organise Mrs Falco’s medications for in the morning?” she asked with a sickly sweet smile. “It’s Raven’s eighteenth birthday today and she’ll probably need them. Mr Falco has also asked that you give Raven her medication at a later time today.” Zahara smiled and nodded like she was paid to do.

The smile fell the second the receptionist disappeared and Zahara stood. Raven got everything handed to her on a silver platter and didn’t know how good she had it. People starved and froze outside, and she got a fancy eighteenth birthday party. How could Strat say he loved her when she was just like Falco?

Zahara swapped into her work shoes. They were required to be appropriate shoes, so she’d kept the comfiest pair of short heels in her locker here, so none of the Lost could wander off with them.

As she headed outside, the receptionist beckoned her over again. She tried not to groan and pulled a face as she walked over.
“Make sure you look extra happy today as well,” she whispered. “Mr Falco has been very angry and stressed lately with all the protests and wanting his daughter’s birthday to be perfect. I know you need this job like I do, so just don’t let him think you don’t love his party or working here.”
“Thanks,” Zahara said, nodding. “I’ll try to remember that.” She forced herself to smile widely and the receptionist gave a thumbs up back before returning to whatever admin work she needed to do on the computer.

One of the many staff lifts in the place was just around the corner from reception, so Zahara headed that way. Great. Raven’s birthday was today as well, how could she forget? At least the staff weren’t expected to buy her presents. She pressed the button for the tenth floor, where one of Mrs Falco’s bedrooms was. Zahara would prepare the medications in that room first before going to the bedroom shared with Falco himself. If there was a party, Sloane Falco would undoubtedly be drunk, and it was likely she’d sleep alone tonight. For a moment, Zahara almost pitied the woman, but with all the luxury in this tower, how could she?

While she worked, Zahara’s thoughts trailed back to Jag. Maybe he’d followed her because he was concerned, not because he was being creepy. She kept telling herself that he just didn’t understand. Even if she did love him, what made him any different to Strat? How did she know that Jagwire wasn’t going to break her heart worse than Strat had?